


Deadroses

by sapphicwonder



Series: DA:O One shots and Short Stories [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Background Alistair (Dragon Age), Dalish Elven Culture and Customs, Emotional Hurt, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Grey Wardens, Sad Ending, The Blight (Dragon Age), Warden Mahariel (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 19:49:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17514875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicwonder/pseuds/sapphicwonder
Summary: Leliana reflects on the day she lost her lover, Warden Lyna Mahariel. She's faced with someone she never thought she'd see again at Celene's ball in Halamshiral. Morrigan is up to gentle shenanigan’s now that she’s a mom to push these two towards each other... (even if she won’t admit that she did it later.)





	Deadroses

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I went back and edited this so now it’s better! All Elvhen is partially from the Dragon Age Wiki at the bottom but it’s also from Project Elvhen by FenxShiral, seriously guys it’s such a good reference! (check it out here https://archiveofourown.org/works/3719848/chapters/8237548)

_10 Years ago, The Final Battle, 9:31 Dragon_

Leliana knocked another arrow, letting it fly straight into the hurlocks throat. It fell with a gurgle and she rushed to retrieve her arrow before taking on a defensive stance, looking for her lover. _Where is she?_

Her head turns just as Alistair shout for her; Lyna’s figure is running full speed towards the archdemon with what looked like a toothpick in comparison to the creatures giant size. She froze and felt arms around her as she struggled to get to her, to help. Helplessly she watched as Lyna screamed in frustration and _fury_ as she tore the beasts throat open with the sword before slamming it to the hilt in it’s skull.

Everything went still for what felt like an eternity, but only could’ve been a few seconds. Time felt like molasses, watching her lovers chest rise and fall heavily as she kept her hands wrapped around the sword, eyes closed and shoulders hunched. The moment was over quickly- so, so quickly- as she looked up at Leliana.

Light began to pour into the air, as if it existed in the very space as a living breathing person. Lyna did not struggle when she realized her hands were stuck. Leliana’s blood turned cold as her lover, her leader, her _heart,_ looked at her with sorrow in her eyes, an apology on her lips and shoulders set back.

“I love you, _revas._ My love _,”_ Lyna mouthed, her hands wrapped around the blasted sword before everything went dark, closing her eyes and murmuring her prayers to Falon’Din.

* * *

 _I_ _love you, liberty._

Those were her last words to her. Leliana could still hear them, even though she hadn’t spoken a word. She had said them enough in their tent, on hunts, or just traveling. Leliana’s heart hurts to think about the first time she called her that. It wasn’t the only nickname she had for her- turning out to have more to her when prodded to open up and give translations- but it was one that meant nearly the most.

 _They were drifting off in camp, just having come in from first watch. Lyna rested her head on Leliana’s chest, idly tracing patterns onto the soft skin of her stomach while nimble fingers brush through her hair, performing_ lath’sal’in. _A sigh of contentment left her and she shifted to look up at her lover_

 _“I love you,_ revas _. One day, you’ll be my_ saota _.” Leliana woke up a bit at that, having been drowsy and dozing off. A lazy smile formed at the edge of her lips._

_“I love you too.” And pulled her shorter lover- something she liked to tease her for endlessly with Alistair- up a bit to place a chaste, but loving kiss on her lips. Then her nose, each cheek, and her forehead before resting her hands on each side of her lovers face and looking into the deep green eyes._

“ _What does it mean?”_

“ _Hm?”_

“ _You called me something. Rehvas?” She asked cautiously, trying to replicate the pronunciation. Her lover laughed sweetly and kissed her on her pouting lips before pulling back again. “It’s rude to make fun of a lady!” She huffed. Lyna only grinned and kissed her again._

_“Good thing you’re no lady in this tent,” Leliana mock-gasped and swatted the woman trying to swaddle her in a hug before giving in to the sweet kisses being pressed up and down her neck and shoulder, sighing and relaxing onto the bedroll. Lyna followed and resumed her position with her head on Leliana’s chest._

_“You still haven’t answered my question.”_

_“It means ‘Freedom’ or ‘Liberty’, if we’re translating it to common. A better way to explain would be that it means ‘gaining freedom’ or ‘where freedom is’, Though that would be ‘_ revas’an’.” _Sensing more questions, she shifted again, head tipped up towards her beautiful lover._

_“I chose it because you remind me of what freedom feels like. You’re courageous, wild and free. You’re also elegant and graceful; you’re nature.” Her words were whispers, reverently spoken to the woman she loved. “You broke away from your past and owned your own freedom and life.” Referring to Marjolaine, having killed her in Denerim._

_Leliana was silent and Lyna went to lay her head back down and let her lover process the words before her one of her cheeks was grabbed gently, coaxing her back to look at her. Tears were welled in the blue oceans of her eyes and one spilled onto her cheek, but her expression held awe and love for the elf in front of her._

_Lyna wiped the tear that spilled away with her thumb and kissed Leliana’s forehead gently. The tears began falling steadily and the former bard was wrapped up in an embrace so tight, so loving before she could move. Her lover whispered soft words to her as she calmed down._

_“I love you, Lyna Mahariel. You are my heart.” She whispered. Hands worn from years of sword work and hunting brushed through her hair as if she was the most precious thing she had ever come across._

“ _I love you too, Leliana._ Ma vhenan _.” And one day, my_ falon’saota.

* * *

_Sometime from the end of the Blight to 9:41 Dragon_

It was difficult not to think of her. Even after the Blight was over, even ten years later and her and Alistair- King Alistair, she reminded herself frequently in the beginning- can’t bear to be in the same room any longer because there’s always an unspoken _why couldn’t we save her_ on their lips and cracks in their eyes. It’s become letters, small correspondences over the years to let him know how she’s doing and how he’s doing and none of the things that matter. She’s glad he is doing well, so long after everything. He deserves his own happiness after all; marrying Anora would be a harrowing task for anyone.

But so had Lyna Mahariel.

She had never wanted any of this. She had said so, mumbling tiredly in Leliana’s arms one cold night in a hastily set up camp after a particularly nasty battle.

“ _I’m tired, Leli,”_ the words had slurred off of her tongue as her eyelids fluttered closed. _“I’m so, so tired.”_

Leliana had hushed her love to sleep gently, but what she said had troubled her. After all, how could one alleviate the worries of a Grey Warden? How could one bard with demons of her own fix what was going on in her lovers mind? To help her find peace?

Leliana often found this in the content of her dreams, those camp nights.

She cried the entire night when Zevran told her that, according to a Dalish man he charmed and learned the terms from, _falon’saota_ and _saota_ meant that Lyna intended to marry her.

* * *

  _10 Years Post-Blight, 9:41 Dragon_

Letting out a soft sigh through her flared nostrils, Leliana stood cloaked in relative shadow as they began to announce the Inquisitor: Athevera Lavellan. In a way, Athevera reminded her much of Lyna; she cared not for what anyone thought of her, much less _shems,_ and with a touch of pride she watched the gowned woman walk to the stairs. Her hair was pinned up elegantly, her small but pointed ears showing her as one of the People, a detail she absolutely insisted on. (She smiled when she asked, but her pointed incisors glinted, they said.) She held her head high and bowed deeply, looking deep into the Empress’ eyes as she did so, causing many gasps and murmurs of surprise at her audacity.

Leliana could only imagine the soft cat-like grin on the elf’s face at the moment, making her blue eyes pop and entrance the hearts of the court. With high cheekbones and a small, button nose, she could’ve been a Duchess in the court her whole life; the pomp, her pouty lips and love-me-hate-me carefree attitude were all markings of a wonderful player of the Game.. If not for the branches of vallaslin marking her face... Or the fact that she was an elf and proudly showed it. The nobles in the court would never respect her, a thought that angered Leliana fiercely, thinking of the disrespect Lyna herself had endured.

She waited patiently for Cassandra’s introduction to begin and let the corner of her lip turn up in anticipation, but it was followed by a wince at her Nevarran friend’s blunt play in the court immediately after. However, she counted on Cassandra keeping to herself for the rest of the night and keeping an eye out for danger. They have a reputation to uphold, and the Game was not something to ever play lightly. With introductions over- and her resurfacing in Orlais causing a hush to go over the crowd and a sickly sweet smile to crawl over her face- she made her way to the shadows, meaning to check in with her agents; many of which undercover as servants.

“Our last guest that Empress Celene would like to welcome is a Hero among all lands, and the Empress and her Court thank her for her attendance.”

Leliana straightened her shoulders as she cautiously approached the railing, staying to the dark area. She had the entire guest list; and she had procured half of these invitations and pairings to ensure a (as possible) smooth ball. No one else was coming, as far as she knew.

“May I present to you, Warden Commander Lyna Mahariel, the Hero of Ferelden!” The spymaster faltered and felt as if an ogre had slammed it’s fist into her chest, struggling to right herself against a pillar and digging her fingers into the railing, moving to get a glance. It couldn’t be her. Lyna was _dead._ Leliana had watched her die. She had mourned.

Brightly shining armor emerged from the doorway to the right and onto the platform, hands clasped behind the wearers back, surrounded by Wardens. A mix of Orlesian and Ferelden, by the looks of it.

The woman- the imposter- steps into the light for the eyes of all to see and raises her chin with a warm, but hollow smile. She falls into a bow. “It is my pleasure and honor to be here, Your Grace.”

Leliana steps back, clutching her chest in horror. It cannot be her, and yet it is. The same woman she lost ten years ago to the Blight. The same black vallaslin she had all those years ago, even a similar hair style; though her hair is in a lower bun than normal.

But she is different. That can be said by anyone who knew her before. Her cheeks are gaunt, her mouth pressed into a firm line between a smile and a grimace. And her eyes.. maker, her eyes are _empty._

 _I have to find her, I have to get to her-_ Her frantic thoughts are interrupted as the Inquisitor, walking regally, and Cassandra approach.

“‘The Warden-Commander’? Leliana, you told me she was dead.”

The Inquisitor raised a single eyebrow, pouty lips creating a look many would both be willing to do anything for and terrified by. She ultimately decided to stay out of it for the moment, approving Cassandra for the task.

A lump formed in the spymaster’s throat, the words almost physically choking her. She began speaking in a very rushed, harsh whisper. “She died in front of me, Cassandra. I held her dead body _in my arms_ until she went cold. I was there when they buried her with her clan, when they put her armor into the tomb. She is.. She should be..” Leliana cursed herself for the weakness, but she stood firm.

Cassandra’s eyes softened, but only slightly. Her mouth was in a tight line, stressed by the situation. “But how is this possible, then? She is alive and well, apparently the Warden-Commander and no word of this to you? The Nightingale of the Imperial Court?”

Leliana shrugged helplessly as her moniker in Orlais was used almost mockingly, biting on her tongue. Her spies range all over Thedas, and yet she had no idea. Obviously, it was very well kept and whoever this really was had gained the loyalty of these remaining wardens.

“Not to interrupt, ladies,” the Inquisitor cuts in quietly but not without a firm edge, “But we do have quite a few problems to solve tonight. Perhaps our Spymaster can be assigned to solving this mystery.”

There was a no nonsense tone in the Inquisitor’s voice, the same she always used. Meaning Leliana would be doing this. Athevera was right, of course: wanting her Spymaster to get information on something unknown; but who would she be finding when she investigated this Lyna Mahariel?

She stifled a sigh. “Very well, Inquisitor. Cassandra, stay attentive and _try_ not to have too much fun,” she smiled at the Seekers frown. “Inquisitor, do.. Well, you know what we came here for. Try to stay alive. Both of you.” She turned on her heel and stalked off without another word.

Leliana found the ‘Lyna Mahariel’ dancing with some woman on the dance floor. She knew court politics better than that, of course. There was more at play there; a whisper in the others ear when they draw close, a pointed look when they’re looking in the same direction. The Game was tricky and delicate, you see, all eyes and ears were watching and waiting.

Just as she was about to take a step closer, a hand closed around her sleeve and tugged her into a side corridor before she could blink. She struggled blindly, off-balance and confused, before hearing a far too familiar hiss in her ear to be quiet and pausing.

“Morrigan?”

Morrigan releases her and dusts off her velvet dress gently. “No longer a scrawny chantry boy, I see,” The quip has no bite in it. She’s even… Maker, is she smiling?

“I knew you’d surfaced in Orlais. I wondered when our paths would cross again.”

“Alas, that’s how fate goes, doesn’t it? The strangest things do happen when they are not expected…” She laughs softly. “But who am I to prattle on about that? Our Once-Leader just rose from the dead.”

Leliana took a deep, calming breath. While Morrigan wasn’t intentionally trying to get under her skin by being rude, she was still being irritating. Such as Morrigan is prone to do, she supposed.

“The dress is pretty, Morrigan.” She comments idly, innocently inspecting some wall fixture. Golden eyes inspect her face carefully.

“Er- Yes, thank you. Though I do not see the need for all of…” She gestures to the skirts. “... This.”

“I told you it would look nice on you,” Leliana grins now, eyes shining with a mirth they had not held for ten years.

Morrigan narrows her eyes thoughtfully. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The other woman hums. “Alright, Morrigan!” She smiles.

The raven haired woman frowns. “No argument?”

“No, no argument. I’m afraid I lost the energy for those… Though, I believe I _did_ say that a velvet dress in maroon with black trim would look quite fetching on you…” She murmurs with a grin.

Morrigan huffs. “Enough. ‘‘Tis time to talk about what we’re here for, yes? The Inquisition needs help tonight,” Leliana was baffled that she knew this, but nodded all the same. “I can do that. But I must stay close to Celene. I can also tell you exactly why-“

“No, Morrigan.”

“Why not?” The velvet-clad woman puts her hands on her hips in a new, mother-like fashion.

“Because I’m going to talk to her myself.”

Internally, Morrigan winces, hoping that the red haired woman doesn’t notice. “Hm. Good luck to you, then. Fair thee well, Leliana. Our paths will cross again soon.” With a cryptic smile and a _swish_ of her exaggerated skirts she’s gone from the small space her and Leliana occupied. Quickly, she makes her way back out to the Main Hall, hoping that they’ve only been talking a few minutes and that this ‘Warden-Commander’ is still there.

She nearly breathes a sigh of relief. She is there! Dancing with a new woman, this time, though she looks… vaguely familiar, but she can’t place her finger on it. Regardless, she waits.

When the song ends, the ‘Warden-Commander’ walked through the crowd, down the corridors and up to stairs to the private quarters. Leliana followed quietly, simple cowl drawn from under her Inquisition uniform.

The woman took out a key to open one of the many guest room doors and Leliana was slightly less nervous. It may be her own quarters assigned by the Empress. Her thoughts wander and she forces herself to focus while the ‘imposter’ takes her time.

She stood in the doorway for a moment before lunging to the side and grabbing Leliana’s arm with a speed she didn’t predict and couldn’t dart away from, a hand muffling her shout of surprise as she was dragged into the room and slammed shut, her pressed against it. A blade appeared from seemingly nowhere, the tip pressed into her neck.

“Why were you following me? I was told I had an ‘ _admirer’_ ,” The words were almost hissed, the woman’s teeth bared and allowing her to see the slightly pointed incisors that all elves have very closely. Leliana curses Morrigan’s constant intervening.

Leliana slowly reached one of her hands up to pull her the fabric covering her face down. Green eyes widened and Lyna dropped the arm holding the knife backing away from the other woman.

“Le… _Fenedhis! Din!_ No , you aren’t supposed to be here! _Etunash_!” Lyna had turned away from her now, many paces ahead in the large room and hands up to her head, knife put wherever it came from. The elf whipped around.

“What are you _doing_ here?” Her tone almost sounded accusational and Leliana’s eyes narrowed.

“You must be joking. What am _I_ doing here?”

Lyna faltered and stepped into a frigid position, arms behind her back and shoulders apart. “Right. Well, I’m here on business of the Grey Wardens as the Warden-Commander _.”_

The Spymaster seethed. “You have been dead for ten years, Lyna. I have mourned your death a thousand times and a thousand times again, and you return from the dead impossibly.”

Lyna looked anywhere but her face _. “Mythal’enaste!_ I do not know what you wish me to say.”

“Who are you?”

The elven woman looked confused. “What?”

“You are not the woman I fell in love with.”

If the statement stung, Mahariel let no sign of it show. Her face was set impassively.

“That woman is no more...”

“Apparently, death is only figurative.” Leliana clenched her hands, anger and hope and despair flooding her all at once, ignoring the question.

“Leliana, to put it lightly, I do not know how I am alive. But I cannot talk about it here,” the brown haired elf sighed, looking into the moonlight shining from the windows. “Too many listening ears and prying eyes. If you truly wish to talk, send words to Vigils Keep. They’ll contact me.”

“You do not even have the decency to give me somewhere to go, somewhere for us to meet? _Fenedhis lasa!”_ Leliana spits the words like a wyvern’s acid, using the elvhen that Lyna had taught her all those years ago.

It hurt Lyna to have to act this way. Perhaps, before everything, she would not have done this. But as she told Leliana, that woman died the day the Archdemon did. She was lanaimem. It’s better this way, with Leliana away from her.

“Ir abelas, Leliana. I have urgent matters that require my attending to.”

“Such as?” The red headed woman demanded impatiently.

The elf sighed rather patiently for someone stuck in such a situation. “Need I ask you what you and your Inquisition are doing tonight? I doubt you would tell me. The years have not been kind to your soul, _ma vhenan._ ”

The Spymaster flinched at that. “It’s not as though your death helped anything.”

The shorter woman sighed and turned away. “Yes. I know. Which is why I stayed away. It’s better with me far, far away from you.”

“How can you even believe that?” The other woman cried out. “I have woken up from dreams of you by my side hoping, praying for them to be real only to have my heart crushed. I find you alive after watching you die in front of me, after crying over your dead body and you tell me _it’s better this way?”_

Lyna knew she wouldn’t see it the same way. She sighed, running her thin fingers through her now even thinner hair, once lush and full of life. She had such little time left before the Blight consumed her and she had to finish what she started first. If she succeeded, then maybe she could return to Leliana and beg for forgiveness. But for now…

“I came back, didn’t I?!” She barks out. “I truly am sorry, Leliana! I wish this could be our _saltuathal_ , too! You are my bonded! _I…”_

“I am dying, Leliana.” She is quick and firm, turning to face her bonded. “The Blight is… quickly taking it’s toll. The reason… I do not know. All I do know is that I have very little time left and I refuse to burden you with that again, to leave your side again. You deserve your freedom.”

Leliana felt the tears on her cheeks before she knew she was crying. She felt the sobs build up in her throat and she leaned against the wall, willing herself to be composed.

“I am so, so sorry, Leliana,” the other woman’s voice cracked. “For everything. I have not stopped thinking of you. And I never stopped loving you, _revas.”_

The spymaster couldn’t hold the tears then, and they came in a flood. Lyna walked swiftly, pressing a kiss to Leliana’s forehead with a whispered, “goodbye, _ma’vhenan_ . You must endure _.”_ and she was out the door. A note slipped to a servant would lead Cassandra to Leliana later, and together they would sit shoulder to shoulder in silence while Leliana’s heartache for her Warden filled the empty space in the room.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Translation of all Elvhen used!
> 
> ma vhenan - "my heart
> 
> Fenedhis lasa - the wiki said no translation, but someone figured out it basically means 'suck Fen'Harel's dick' by piecing together the language. pretty neat
> 
> Mythal’enaste - "Mythal's Favor!" can be used as an exclamation like that or as a prayer.
> 
> lanaimem - destroyed
> 
> Falon’saota - bonded/married
> 
> revas - “freedom” im not sure this is supposed to be used as a nickname/term of endearment but Lyna would totally do it anyway.
> 
> Din - no
> 
> Lath’sal’in - when you’re fondling someone you care abouts hair
> 
> Etunash - shit, feces, crap
> 
> saltuathal - reunion/rejoining/reuniting
> 
> ir abelas - im sorry.  
> 


End file.
